Forbidden
by Britcakes-the remake
Summary: Kyle Broflovski died just moments ago. Now in the middle of an existential-plane war between Heaven and Hell, he must face through tough decisions that have to do with his own feelings. Kyle is an angel and his lover before he died - Kenny - is a demon. What should he do..?


Guess what, you guys? That's right! I forgotten my account. Happens to the best of us. Anyway, I have a (hopefully) new multi-chap! And it's called Forbidden! I hope you guys like it.

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_"Kyle! I love you~!" Kenny sang in a rather operatic voice, watching as my cheeks took on a small rosy shade. I shoved him playfully, pouting at him._

_"Fuck you, dude." I had replied and all he did was giggle at my response. It was only a few seconds later before I muttered back, "I love you too."_

Kenny had been dead for several months now and it had left me in a wreck. He promised that he would return, leaving nothing but a tender kiss on my cheek before falling into his… deep sleep. The word death remained sour on my tongue; how could I say he was dead?

Kenny always woke up.

Months had passed since then and he showed no sign of jumping up with that goofy grin and another big kiss but no. Life could be so cruel.

More proof in which life is cruel is the fact I'm stuck at Heaven's gate, waiting to be let in. Access was, strangely enough, accepted. Perhaps God began to tire with the Mormons? I'll never know, but Moroni appeared before me in a flash of white.

That was kind of it.

No big entrance with angelic voices singing, 'Moroni' as he flew down, white wings enveloping his body like a cocoon and slowly opening up to reveal this beautiful angel. No, he just came up to me in a white flash; rather unprofessionally How sad. I was expecting Moses or even Gabriel to show up. No. Moroni.

"Hello, young Jew." He greeted me and I stared blankly at him. I had to admit though, although his entrance was pretty weak, his voice did, indeed, sound like an angelic chorus. It was almost like buttered toast; so smooth and silky.

I muttered a small hello and awkwardly looked to the side. How cloudy could this place get? I chewed my lip and took a few steps backwards. I didn't fall. That's.. pretty great, actually.

"You are chosen here for heaven, amongst the Mormons and some other Buddhists Muslims, Christians etcetera because the place was lacking some Jews and Moses was complaining." Huh. How different. "You were also a good person and very strong willed so God thought why not."

What a grateful introduction to this wonderous, sacred place. Thanks, Moroni! Suddenly, the angel in question snapped his fingers and off came my blood-covered clothes and shoes and even hat - why though? - and then came an ancient-Roman-esque robe that covered just my knees along with a green sash that covered my chest. On my head, what replaced the ushanka, was a halo and white wings spouted out of my back.

As if this couldn't get any faggier.

"Come, young Broflovski; you have training to do." Moroni smiled and took my hand gently, flying off - yes, actually flying - to some sort of angelic boy scout camp. Interesting. In about four hours, I learned how to control my wings and even materialise swords out of thin air.

Wait. Why did we have to learn about this?

It was only then I was thrust - with about twenty hundred other angels - down to Hell for another one of the 'Great Plane-existential War'. How great is that? The 'demons' looked nothing like the angels. While most of them were a slightly tortured mess, you could still tell who they were. Gabriel fired an arrow at Hitler, someone managed to attack Princess Diane, and another murdered(?) Steve Irwin. Oh, God, just like in South Park.

Anyway, there I was. I managed to slip away from the commotion up on the battlefield - if it could even be called that - and wandered through the fiery domain, but I still clutched onto the weapon. Surprisingly, most Hellians could care less about the fact there was a war near enough at the central of this existential plane.

As I came full circle and I arrived back at the slaughter house, I got tackled to the ground by a man dressed in orange. He stood up, a foot pressing down on my stomach which caused my wings to struggle, he drew a sword that rested just on the skin of my throat. I opened my eyes to glare at the ruffian, but time seemed to slow down and it was just us. No one was fighting to just the left of us. No one was hurling grenades of either cloud - not sure what good the element of cloudiness is but okay - and fire. No one was even screaming. It was just us.

"K-Ken.. ny..?" I whispered in shock, the feathery appendages stopped squirming and just laid limp against the burning ash that lined the asphalt, assuming the walkways were asphalt. His blue eyes looked lost, obviously torn between killing me - the enemy - or holding me close and whispering about how sorry he was for tacking me. He dropped his sword and threw it a few inches before helping me up.

"Kyle," His voice was a hushed whisper but demanding, "You have to get out of here. Please." A tone of pleading was in the blonde's voice and I swallowed. "No." Came my defiant response and I could see how aggravated my lover(?) was.

Unable to hide it, he gave me a small kiss on the cheek but made it look like he was whispering in my ear and I bit my lip. I had been waiting so long for this but.. not in this sort of circumstance. Not with my life, or death, was on the line.

"Retreat, angels!" A screech broke our Edward Cullen and Bella Swan state and I gave my lost-love a pained look before forcing myself to fly away. But not before telling him I'd be back.

My name is Kyle Broflovski. I was only eighteen when I died and I died because of my diabetes. I am now a warrior angel or something and my lover, Kenny McCormick who is in Hell and also a warrior, is forced to become my enemy.

As I said before, life is cruel.


End file.
